The Marshal's Mail-Order Bride: Mail-Order Brides of the Southwest, #3

Chapter 1

Santa Fe, New Mexico, 1877

Deputy US Marshal Jerome Riddick snapped the reins, hoping the horses would move faster. They didn't. He should've been heading south out of Santa Fe and picking up the outlaw's trail again. Juan Sanchez had led him on a wild goose chase over the past week. Losing him after he and his men crossed the Rio Grande just northwest of town had been a huge setback. Now, instead of going after Sanchez, he was headed home with three young children. What had possessed him to agree to such a thing? Because of his work, he was seldom home—how was he going to take care of them and do his job?

The baby behind him let out a loud wail, which seemed to go on forever. How long could such tiny lungs hold out without air? His body tightened, every nerve on edge as the cry's volume and pitch rose. The oldest boy, Carl, seemed capable of taking care of the baby, but Riddick was more concerned that the middle child was doing his best to keep everyone riled up. He had to figure out something fast, because he was hanging on to his sanity by the tips of his fingernails.

Mister?

Riddick growled low in his throat. How many times do I have to tell you my name is Riddick? Use it, boy.

With the baby in his arms, Carl used only his legs to climb over the rickety wagon seat to sit beside him. I'll call you by your name when you learn mine.

Riddick shook his head and snapped the reins again. The three of them were more difficult to control, not to mention mouthier, than most of the outlaws he'd arrested. What do you want…Carl?

We're all out of milk for Jenny, and she won't drink the water. Carl bounced his sister in his arms, trying to calm her down, but it was a losing battle. She opened her bow-shaped mouth and let out a wail that could raise the dead. She's hungry—an' I can tell you now, it won't get any better until she eats.

The wagon topped the hill. Spread out before them was the growing town of Santa Fe. He was home. Even with the screaming infant beside him, his tensed muscles loosened the closer he got to the house. Don't worry, kid. We're almost home. He remembered the warning he'd been given about Jake. When the boy got quiet, he was up to something. What's your brother doing back there?

Carl looked behind him then turned around and faced the front. He's goin' through the bags to see if there's something that might hold Jenny over until you get her some milk.

No sooner had he said that then Jake's small fist thrust between them, a biscuit clenched in his hand. Here, Carl! Let her try this. Momma sometimes fed her bits of hers.

Carl took the crumbly piece of bread, and holding it in one hand, tore off a tiny piece and stuck it in his sister's mouth. The baby immediately quieted, sucking noisily on the food. The moment she swallowed, he would stick another piece in her mouth before she started crying again.

Huh. It worked. She seems to like it too, Riddick said, watching the baby's lips move in and out as she made chewing motions with her toothless jaws.

On the outskirts of town, he turned the wagon onto a narrow path angling up into the foothills of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Large spots of speckled sunshine advanced in front of them, weaving over the rutted dirt as the wind blew through the branches of the aspens and oaks above them.

He'd missed the sounds of the forest. The scratching of tiny nails over the forest floor as wood rats and grouse and many other small animals scurried about for food, as well as the flapping of wings, along with the variety of calls, as birds flew from tree to tree overhead. The further away they drove from town, the higher they climbed and the cooler the air turned, caressing their exposed skin, which was now burned from three days in the brilliant New Mexico sun.

A heavy crash echoed around them. Carl and his little brother jumped, their wide-eyed gazes looking cautiously around for the cause. The sound came again, but further away as the animal responsible for the noise moved further into the trees.

Ummm, what was that? Carl asked.

Could've been anything. Bear, elk, mountain lion. Lots of animals live in these mountains. My guess, it was a bear pushing over a tree.

You're pullin' our legs! Jake chimed in, his voice a bit higher than normal.

Riddick shook his head. Nope. 'Fraid not. You're used to city living. Only animals you've probably seen are cats, dogs, cows, and horses. How old are you boys?

I'm almost nine and Jake's six. Jenny's not even one year old yet, Carl answered.

Well, this here is wild country, with lots of animals that would love nothing more than little boy for dinner. You two are old enough to understand that, right? He waited until they both nodded.

Just before Father left for California, he and Mother took us to the zoological park in Philadelphia, Carl said. They had hundreds of animals there, not just dogs, cats, horses, and cows—

"They had huge cats with wild hair, striped horses called zebras, and giant elephants with long trunks hanging off their faces. They could even pick stuff up with it! Jake interrupted. He stood up in the wagon, clutching the back of the seat to balance himself as it tipped from left to right maneuvering through and sometimes over the rutted road. He stared into the forest to their left. Do you have elephants here too?"

Riddick chuckled at the boy's enthusiasm. No. No elephants, but I've seen a few grizzly bears that were about as big. You'll need to watch out for mountain lions as well. They'll be on top of you before you even realize they're there.

Jake didn't say anything else, just slowly lowered himself into the wagon bed and curled up, holding his legs to his chest with his arms wrapped around his knees. Riddick bit back a smile. That would cure the kid from wandering off while he was here. Not that he'd lied. He hadn't. He had stretched the truth a mite though. Most grizzlies and lions stayed higher up in the mountains, but Jake didn't need to know that.

He pulled up in front of his house, the adobe walls a natural tan. A long porch ran across the front, a new and welcome addition he'd built before leaving to chase after Sanchez. There were two large windows on either side of the turquoise-colored door, and colorful flowers grew in large clay pots on either side of the porch. He'd planted a garden between the house and the tall pine trees, but from the looks of it, the weeds had taken over.

We're home. He loosely wrapped the reins around the brake and climbed off the wagon. Pressing his hands on either side of his lower back, he stretched, easing the tension from his backside. He was used to sitting on the back of a horse, not a wagon. Just as he reached for the baby so Carl could jump down, Jake let out a loud whoop and hurled himself over the other side of the wagon and took off around to the back of the house.

Jake! Carl hollered and thrust Jenny into Riddick's outstretched arms. Jake, you get back here! He, too, jumped off the wagon and ran after his brother. At the abrupt motion of leaving the warmth and comfort of her brother's arms to Riddick's stiff embrace, Jenny's little body jerked, her small arms flailing in the air as she shrieked her displeasure.

He stared down at her, for the first time really seeing the little girl's face. He took a deep breath. She looked just like her mother.

Alayna Kimbal shivered, rubbing her arms with her cold hands, and continued along the empty street. It was early morning in Santa Fe, too early for most to be up and about. Unlike her, people were sleeping snug and warm in their beds. After fleeing from Sanchez's men, it had taken her two more days to get through the mountains. Thankfully, she'd never seen any signs of being followed.

Half asleep in the saddle, she'd let Carlos's horse wander down the first street they came to. She yawned and rubbed the horse's neck, for the first time noticing where they were headed. At the end of the street sat a small church, the tall steeple rising into the sky like a beacon. Having lived her entire life on the ranch, she'd never seen a church before, but knew what it was from her mother's descriptions when she was a child. Hopefully, she would find help there or, at the least, a place to sleep for the few remaining hours until dawn.

As she drew closer to the red-orange bricked building, she couldn't see any lights shining in the windows, and everything surrounding the area was calm and quiet. She slid down from the saddle and looped the horse's reins around the hitching post near the stairs. With a slow, measured gait she climbed, her legs shaking with each step. Reaching for the wrought iron doorknob, she twisted the cold lever down and pushed, but the door remained closed. She let out a tired sigh and walked back down the steps.

Unhooking the bedroll from the back of the horse's saddle, she gave him one last scratch under the chin and unfurled the blanket. She wrapped it around her shoulders then sat in the corner where the stairs met the front of the church. Leaning her head against the cold bricks, she sighed. At least this was better than sleeping on the hard ground with pebbles and sticks poking her.

Excuse me? Excuse me, miss? Are you okay? Do you need help?

Alayna's eyelids popped open and she jumped up, her fists clasping the blanket's edges together between her breasts, as if the material could protect her from harm. Standing in front of her was a beautiful woman, poised and perfect, a basket hanging on one arm. Alayna's eyes widened as her gaze took in the lady's light green dress and dark auburn hair. She tucked the loose hairs behind her ears, for the first time self-conscious of how she must look. The woman's dress was beautiful. Glancing down at her own clothes, she rubbed her palms down her skirt, trying to smooth the wrinkled material. She noticed the dirt caked around her broken nails and creased along the crevices of her skin.

Are you hurt? the woman asked again. Alayna shook her head. I don't remember seeing you in church. Are you new to Santa Fe? What's your name?

Alayna chewed on her lower lip, wondering if she should trust her. She seemed very nice, but really, she had no idea who the woman was. Looking into her hazel eyes, she saw honesty and genuine concern staring back at her. My name is Alayna Kimbal.

Kimbal? That isn't a Mexican name.

Alayna smiled. No, ma'am. My father is white. My mother was Mexican.

Well then, it is very nice to meet you, Miss Kimbal. My name is Pauline Kirkwell. My husband is the reverend at this church. Would you like to join me for breakfast?

Thank you, Alayna said, indecision warring inside of her. Even if she was a preacher’s wife, this woman was still a stranger. She stared a moment, taking in the woman’s kind face and relaxed body then took a long breath. I would like that.

Pauline sat down on the bottom step leading up to the front doors of the church and patted the open space beside her. Next, she pulled two plates and a brown-paper wrapped package from her basket. She opened the package and set a delicious-looking pastry on each plate, two curly streams of steam gently wafting from them into the air.

Alayna's stomach growled. She swallowed as her mouth watered in anticipation, and sat down beside her. When Pauline handed her a plate, she held it under her nose, breathing in the rich scents of sugary cinnamon and sweet bread.

Go on. It won't bite, you know. Besides, they're even better when they're warm, Pauline said.

Alayna met the woman's gaze but quickly lowered her own back to the plate. Picking up the pastry, she sank her teeth into the warm bread, chewing the small bite as slowly as she could. She swallowed with a small groan, and took another bite; tangy yeast, along with the bitterness of almond and the sharp bite of the cinnamon, filled her mouth.

Pauline quietly sat, a thoughtful expression on her face, but she waited while Alayna finished her meal. The moment the plate bottom met the wooden stair, Pauline leaned forward, cradling her cup between her hands. Now, my dear, whether you know it or not, you've come to the right place for help. No one else in this town knows more than I how difficult life can be, and how fast things whirl out of control. Will you tell me what happened to you?

Fear tightened its grip around her heart, making it hard for Alayna to breathe. Juan Sanchez would come looking for her. Of that, she had no doubt. But she wanted to tell Pauline—the pain of losing Carlos was almost more than she could bear. With a slight shake of her head, she frowned.